

































































































































































































































COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 


A 


* 











































JIMMIE 

The Story of a Black Bear Cub 


THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO • DALLAS 
ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN & CO., Limited 

LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. 
TORONTO 








An Interrupted Feast 




JIMMIE 

The Story of a Black Bear Cub 


ERNEST HAROLD BAYNES 

AUTHOR OF “POLARIS,” “WILD BIRD duESTS,” ETC. 


With many Illustrations from Photographs hy 


LOUISE BIRT BAYNES AND THE AUTHOR 


© 
> 9 


u 


THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

1923 


All rights reserved 


PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 



Copyright, 1923, 

By ERNEST HAROLD BAYNES 


Set up and electrotyped. Published October, 1923. 


4 


f * 

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©C1A760886 

NOV 14 BBS 


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£^-9**a { **v* 




To 

My Fellow Bears of 

THE TAVERN CLUB 

TO WHOSE STORE OF HONEY 
I AM ALWAYS MADE WELCOME 
AT THEIR HOSPITABLE DEN IN BOSTON, 
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED WITH 
A FRIENDLY HUG FOR EVERY ONE 
FROM JIMMIE AND ME. 











ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 


Parts of this story have appeared in The 
W Oman's Home Companion, Country Life, 
Recreation, Nature Magazine, The Elson 
Readers, The Boston Evening Transcript, The 
New Bedford Evening Standard, The Concord 
(N. H.) Monitor, the Burlington (Vt.) Free 
Press, The Stamford (Conn.) Advocate, The 
Hartford (Conn.) Times, The New Britain 
(Conn.) Herald, The New York Evening 
Post, The Chicago Evening Post, and The 
Los Angeles Times. To the editors of these 
publications the author desires to express his 
sincere thanks for the courtesies extended to 
him while arranging the material for publica¬ 
tion in book form. 














































































































PREFACE 


Ever since Goldie Locks gave to the world 
the story of her remarkable adventures, bears 
have been perhaps the most popular of wild 
animals. Within recent years their popularity 
has been thoroughly confirmed by the universal 
welcome accorded to the “Teddy Bears,” which 
came from Toyland and founded the Nursery 
branch of this dearly-beloved family. 

No other large wild animals look so well-fed 
and prosperous—so jovial and ready to give you 
a good-natured slap on the back. They often 
remind me of clowns. They appear so human 
when they stand erect, and their looks and 
actions are so droll when they tumble about, it 
would seem that they must have a sense of 
humor. Young bears especially give one the 
impression that they are really trying to be 
funny. They do things, seemingly in a spirit of 
fun, which to us seem so funny that we laugh as 


IX 



X 


Preface 


we watch them, while on their faces we note 
whimsical expressions not unlike those which 
human faces would wear under similar circum¬ 
stances. Sometimes bears look quite self-con¬ 
scious just as men do when they are “playing to 
the gallery,” and like the men, the bears seem 
to enjoy having spectators while ;hey are “show¬ 
ing off.” But is it really so? We are looking on 
with human eyes, from a human standpoint and 
perhaps with human love and sympathy. Many 
of us are willing, even anxious, to have the 
animals close to us in thought, and smilingly 
yield to our imagination when it tells us that an 
animal we are observing is thinking as we are. 
Thank God for Imagination! She is the greatest 
of explorers, and if we follow her with our eyes 
wide open she may set us far upon the road to 
Truth. But, let us beware! If we close our 
eyes but for a moment, she may lure us slyly 
into some by-path and masquerade so cleverly 
that we may mistake her for Truth himself. 

The story of Jimmie is a true one and I have 
tried to make a faithful record of his life with 
us. The young bear will be seen in scores of 


XI 


Preface 

situations which seem to show or to suggest con¬ 
scious humor or intentional “deviltry.” 

My advice to young readers is to avoid com¬ 
ing to hasty conclusions. Animal psychology is 
not to be mastered by those who start with the 
assumption that animals and men have minds so 
nearly alike that they can think alike. The 
lives of animals are so much simpler than ours 
that much simpler (though possibly keener) 
minds are needed in order to live them. 

In the pursuit of natural history we should use 
imagination freely. Let it suggest to us lines 
of thought and study and observation. But let 
us not accept its suggestions as facts until by 
unassailable evidence they have been proved to 
be facts. Herein lies the difference between 
real natural history and “nature-faking”—be¬ 
tween information and misinformation. The 
first advances us in knowledge; the second not 
only does not advance us, it actually retards us, 
and may even set us back. 

By all means let us have imaginative writing, 
on natural history as well as on other subjects. 
Nothing is more delightful or more stimulating. 
But let it come to us in its true guise that we 



xii Preface 

may love it frankly for itself—not masquerading 
as literal truth, for then we are either deceived, 
or, when, as often happens, the mask is torn 
away, we are disappointed if not disgusted. 

Ernest Harold Baynes. 
Meriden, New Hampshire. 



CONTENTS 


PAGE 

CHAPTER I 

Jimmie Arrives in New Hampshire .... i 

CHAPTER II 

Adventures at the Haven Cottage .... 8 

CHAPTER III 

Skylarking in the Blue Mountain Forest . . 49 

CHAPTER IV 

Frolics at Sunset Ridge.70 

CHAPTER V 

Jimmie Says Good-by .1 33 







JIMMIE, THE STORY OF 
A BLACK BEAR CUB 


CHAPTER I 

JIMMIE ARRIVES IN NEW HAMP¬ 
SHIRE 

PECK’S bad boy was a supercherub compared 
with Jimmie. The hunter who sent him to me 
from Parry Sound said that he was the “bad 
egg” of a family of three, and frankly admitted 
that that was why he had sent him, though what 
I had done to incur the enmity of a man at Parry 
Sound I have never learned to this day. 

The mother of these cubs had been killed in 
her den by Indian hunters, and the white trapper 
who was with them had rescued the babies and 
taken them home to his own cabin for company. 

Jimmie’s baby brothers, it seems, were very 
good—that is for little bears—and one cuff on 
the ear was enough to make either of them lie 




2 


Jimmie 


down and be quiet. But Jimmie would stand up 
on his hind legs and put up a fight that would 
have been dangerous had the fighter’s weight 
and reach been in proportion to his courage and 
determination. 

So one day the trapper, with his thumb done 
up in a white rag, and the back of his right hand 
looking like a contour map of the Rocky Mourn 
tains done in red ink, picked up a small and 
screaming black bear cub, dropped it into a stout 
wooden box, carried it to the nearest railway 
station and addressed it to me. 

I never shall forget Jimmie’s arrival. It was 
late afternoon on a peaceful summer day and we 
were not expecting him. We were living at the 
“Haven Cottage,” seven miles north of Newport, 
New Hampshire, and we were all seated on the 
piazza, looking out over a sunlit daisy field and 
listening to the song of a hermit thrush. I hap¬ 
pened to glance down the road, and far away I 
could see a cloud of dust. It heralded the com¬ 
ing of the stage which brought our mail and 
express packages. Even at that distance I could 
hear strange sounds which did not harmonize 


3 


The Story of a Black Bear Cab 

with the song of the hermit thrush. Finally the 
stage drove up and the driver dumped a wooden 
box into the middle of the lawn. From the in¬ 
side of that box was coming a perfectly awful 
noise. There was a continuous and frantic 
scratching at the woodwork and a vocal sound 
which seemed to grow louder every moment. 

“Wow! Wow! WOW!” yelled an angry 
voice. 

“No! No! NO-0-0!” it wailed. 

I said to the stage driver, “What in the world 
have you got in that box?” 

But the stage driver had been sitting along¬ 
side that noise for seven miles and was in no 
humor for talk. So he climbed to his seat, 
whipped up his lathering horses, and left me to 
find out for myself what was in the box. I took 
a hammer and a chisel and pried off a corner of 
it, and out of the hole I made there was thrust a 
little, black, furry face with a tawny muzzle, 
round, furry ears, a pair of beady black eyes, 
and the most impudent expression I have ever 
seen on the face of any animal. I recognized 
my guest at once as a black bear cub. He 


4 


Jimmie 


stepped out on to the lawn, and deliberately- 
looked around as if in search of the man who 
was responsible for his discomfort. Then his 
anger gave away to sobs and wails of grief. 

There was a sentimental lady calling on us at 
the time and at a glance she saw that the little 
stranger needed comforting. She ran down the 
steps, snapped the bear cub into her arms and 
murmured, “Oh, the poor little dear. 1 ’ Now 
“the poor little dear 11 had been in that box for 
several days, he was looking for something more 
substantial than love murmurings, and his nat¬ 
urally short temper was not quite as long as 
usual. With a savage little growl he bit the 
sentimental arm, and with a raking stroke of his 
sturdy hind legs he tore a long rent in the lady’s 
dress. She promptly dropped him and rushed 
back to her place on the piazza. In the mean¬ 
time our housekeeper, Lucy, had looked upon 
the scene. No kinder person lived than she, but 
her kindness to animals was based on knowledge 
and common sense. She knew that, no matter 
what the anatomists might tell you, the way to 
the heart of a hungry little bear was right down 
through his “tummy, 11 and she lost no time in 



Lucy Found the Way to His Heart 










The Story of a Black Bear Cub 


7 


getting to his tummy. With the aid of a bowl 
of crackers and milk she found his heart, badly 
bent but not quite broken, and it was hers 
forevermore. 


CHAPTER II 


A BEAR CUB AT THE HAVEN 

COTTAGE 

Haven Cottage, where Jimmie came to us, 
stands on the eastern border of the Blue Moun¬ 
tain Forest. This great game preserve com¬ 
prises about forty square miles of beautiful wild 
country, surrounded by a high fence and stocked 
with buffalo, elk, white-tailed deer, and many 
other wild creatures both native and introduced. 
Down the middle of it, roughly north and south, 
like a mighty backbone, stretches the spruce- 
clad Croydon range—the “Blue Mountain” 
which gives the place its name. In the hilly 
country round about “the Park,” as the country 
folk call it, lie old farms with white, green- 
shuttered, maple-shaded houses, grey barns, 
gnarled apple trees, and scrub-grown, rock- 
studded cattle pastures. Here and there may be 
found more prosperous homesteads, with well- 

kept lawns and flower beds, painted outbuild- 

8 



The Story of a Black Bear Cub 9 

ings, and herds of thoroughbred cattle. It was 
in this farming country and in the Blue Moun¬ 
tain Forest itself that the little bear passed his 
New Hampshire days. 

His life with us was one long series of humor¬ 
ous adventures—humorous for Jimmie, for us, 
or our neighbors, according to the point of 
view. But it made no difference what he did, 
Lucy always defended him with her tongue at 
least, and with the fire irons if necessary. If the 
paint were scratched off the front door, if all the 
strawberry jam in the pantry were eaten, if the 
coverlet of a bed were decorated with paw- 
painted bear tracks done in muddy water colors, 
it was the tame deer that did these things. Or, if 
the deer could prove an alibi, it was the wolves, 
the foxes, the opossums, or even the skunks—any 
living thing on the face of the landscape except 
Jimmie Bear; he never did anything wrong. 
And whenever we succeeded in actually “pin¬ 
ning it on him,” she would either remind us that 
“we’re all human, you know,” or make us feel 
that somehow we were trying to take advantage 
of an infant who had no parents to stand up for 
him. Once when I caught him on the kitchen 




IO 


Jimmie 


dresser, sitting among the fragments of some 
china he had pulled from a shelf above, I called 
the housekeeper and remarked sternly, “Well, I 
suppose you’ll admit he did that?” 

Now Lucy had been in our family for a long 
time, and had served my father and mother be¬ 
fore us. Looking from me to the culprit bear 
and then at me again, her mind flashed back a 
score of years. Straightening to her full height 
and folding her arms she said reminiscently and 
half reproachfully: “Well, Master Harold, I 
don't think you should be so hard on him. 
Please remember you were a boy yourself once.” 
And of course I remembered and did not press 
her for details. 

Jimmie differed somewhat from the little 
girl who had a curl right in the middle of her 
forehead,for— 

“When he was fed he was never very good, 
But when he was hungry he was horrid.” 

When that comfortable feeling which fol¬ 
lowed a meal began to wear off, the cub would 
let us know it by mutterings and grumblings, 
low and unobtrusive at first, like the warnings 



i r 


The Story of a Black Bear Cub 

of a miniature volcano about to become active. 
Unless the growing fires of his hunger were 
quenched with milk or something equally good, 



He Wanted His Food and No One Could 
Persuade Him that He Didn’t 


the rumblings grew deeper and louder, until at 
last there came an uncontrolled outpouring of 

t 

ursuline profanity which told us that the vol¬ 
cano was in full eruption. At such a time it was 
quite useless to try and divert his attention. He 






12 


Jim mie 


was hungry and wanted his food and no one 
could persuade him that he didn’t. If he were 
loose, he would probably make for the screen 
door of the kitchen and, opening it deftly with 
the aid of his sharp claws, march straight to the 
sink. Standing on his hind legs he would 
stretch until he reached the edge with his fore¬ 
feet, and with a single hoist he would reach his 
goal. Here he was likely to find a pail of fresh 
drinking water, which might occupy his atten¬ 
tion for a moment, though he would probably be 
grumbling all the time he was drinking. Then 
turning round he would let himself down back¬ 
ward until his hind feet touched the floor. 

By this time Lucy would be preparing a basin 
of bread and milk. Jimmie would see her and 
at once start to hurry things by dancing on his 
hind legs in front of her, clasping her about the 
knees, biting and tugging at her skirts. She was 
not in the least afraid of him, and sometimes in 
order to try his patience, or rather his impa¬ 
tience, a little more, she would hold the coveted 
basin just above his reach. Shrieking with rage, 
he would dance around her, wildly snatching at 
the food. Finally one swift paw would “make 


i3 


The Story of a Black Bear Cub 

connections’’ and then the game began to go his 
way. His claws hung on to the rim of the basin 
like so many iron hooks, and if it were lifted any 



He Would Scramble Up the Piazza Posts 


higher Jimmie went with it. Then Lucy would 
carry him out dinner and all, and set the basin 
on the lawn, whereupon we were treated to a 
moving picture showing the real meaning of the 
















Jimmie 


H 

expression “as hungry as a bear.” Lying flat 
on his tummy before the food, and with forearms 
wrapped around the basin right and left, he 
would thrust his muzzle, almost to the eyes, into 
the bread and milk, which rapidly disappeared 
to a combination of sounds showing greed, satis¬ 
faction, and distrust. 

When he had licked the vessel so clean that it 
needed no further washing, he seemed to feel 
much better, and the time had come for play. 
He would roll about on the lawn, turn somer¬ 
saults, and scramble up the piazza posts, seem¬ 
ingly as much to his own delight as to that of the 
neighbors’ children who often gathered to see 
him. And here I might add that never before 
or since have we had so much attention from 
those children as we had when Jimmie was our 
guest. Before he arrived we had our milk deliv¬ 
ered once a day. Now it came twice a day, and 
a contribution to our standing order for eggs was 
made, it seemed, every time a hen gave a declara¬ 
tory cackle. Wide-eyed youngsters were always 
coming to inquire if we needed any maple sugar 
or fresh butter, whether we would like to sell 
our hay, or if we wanted some one to saw the 


The Story of a Black Bear Cub 


15 


wood. Of course the inquirer never left the 
premises until Jimmie had been seen, whether 
our needs were urgent or not at all. Jimmie evi¬ 
dently enjoyed his young visitors and seemed to 
make special efforts for their amusement. 



Jimmy Used the Roof as an Observatory 


Some of the grown-ups were not quite so 
much amused. Among these were men who 
drove daily past our house. Horses are affected 
differently by the odor of a bear, but many of 
them dislike it intensely, and a few at least are 























































i6 


Jimmie 


thrown into paroxysms of fear. Usually a spir¬ 
ited horse would begin to manifest uneasiness 
when he came within a few hundred yards of 
our place, and the uneasiness, accompanied by 
snorting, pricked ears, and sidelong glances, in¬ 
creased until he drew close to the house, when 
the tendency was to bolt. This tendency was 
greatly increased if the bear was^ actually in 
sight or giving vocal evidence of his presence. 

One morning a farmer neighbor, driving a 
mettlesome young horse, was passing the house, 
and, seeing the bear, drew up to have a better 
look at him. But the horse, which had been 
exhibiting great nervousness, now went wild 
with fear, and leaping into the air, came down 
upon his side. With the nimbleness of a cat 
the man sprang clear and seized the horse by 
the head, and a moment later the animal was 
on his feet again, fortunately unhurt. The 
driver, a good sport, asked me to bring the cub 
close up, as he wished his horse to become 
used to the sight and smell of it. I turned 
round to look for Jimmie, but apparently he 
had not liked the behavior of the horse, for 
he had climbed to the top of a near-by tree, 



Jimmie Loved Farms and Never Tired of Exploring Them 








i9 


The Story of a Black Bear Cub 

where he now sat calmly munching a cluster of 
green wild cherries. It was fifteen minutes 
before he saw fit to come down and be intro¬ 
duced, and then it was with an air of conferring 
an honor upon the horse. 

Jimmie loved farms and never tired of explor¬ 
ing them. The odors of orchards and dairies 
seemed to tickle his nostrils pleasantly, and of 
course there was always a fair chance of finding 
something to tickle his palate as well. Then 
there was the fun of frightening things—hens, 
ducks, and sheep—and the greater fun of chas¬ 
ing them afterward. 

Sometimes even the owners of the farms were 
the victims of his pranks. One of our neighbors, 
who sleeps on the first floor, has a rare, almost 
extinct, passion for fresh air. One day the cub 
climbed through his open window, and when 
that night the man got into bed in the dark, he 
thought somebody had been setting a steel trap 
for him. It was only Jimmie who resented 
being disturbed at that late hour, and who bit 
one great toe so badly that it had to be carried 
in a sling. 

Lucy seemed to think it was her duty to give 




20 


Jimmie 


him a personal introduction to all the other ani¬ 
mals round about. Usually this was not at all 
necessary from his standpoint because Jimmie 
had no difficulty in becoming acquainted with 
anyone he cared to meet. He simply walked 
right up and introduced himself. Possibly she 
thought that there would be fewer misunder¬ 
standings if she were present and in this no 
doubt she was right. But if he didn't want to 
be introduced not even her kindly offices could 
persuade him to extend the friendly paw. Once, 
I remember, she wished to introduce him to a 
fine, tri-colored collie dog named Bruce. She 
sat on the lawn beside the dog and tried to call 
Jimmie to her side. The cub refused to come. 
He walked around in circles regarding Bruce 
with a suspicious eye and finally went away 
leaving Lucy and the visitor to make the best of 
their own company. Lucy did not understand 
this behavior but I had seen a previous meeting. 
A few days before, a young Scotch farmer, the 
owner of Bruce, drove up in a buggy, with the 
dog at his side. Bruce jumped out and there 
was Jimmie standing on the lawn. The two 
eyed one another for a moment and then Jimmie 


21 


The Story of a Black Bear Cub 



Lucy Tried in Vain to Introduce Him to Bruce 


advanced, rising to his hind legs and putting out 
his arms. The smell of bear was a new one to 
the collie and he retreated, growling, under the 
buggy. He seemed ashamed of his caution, but 
here was a queer new creature—a very danger- 








22 


Jimmie 


ous one for all he knew—and Bruce was a canny 
dog. Had he known a little more about bear 
cubs he would not have been the least afraid; if 
Jimmie had known a little more about dogs he 
would have been more cautious. Just then 
Bruce’s owner stepped out of the buggy. Now 
a dog by himself is one dog, but a dog backed 
by a real man whom he loves and trusts is three 
dogs, and three dogs are not to be daunted by 
one bear cub no matter how dangerous he may 
look. As the Scotchman’s foot touched the 
ground, it seemed to release a spring which 
hurled Bruce from between the buggy wheels 
straight at the black and furry thing before him. 
Jimmie turned several somersaults backward 
and when he stopped rolling he was wrong side 
up with the collie astride of him. 

“Bruceie!” 

The Scotchman’s voice was low but the tone 
of disapproval was perfectly understood, and, 
the dog, crestfallen, trotted back to his side. 

u Na! Na! Ye mauna hoort the wee cub, 
Bruceie. He wadna hoort yew.” 

Bruce didn’t seem at all sure of this. But his 
god had spoken, and the bear cub was safe even 


















iMMMM: ■«* 


Jimmie Wrestling with Bingo 
































25 


The Story of a Black Bear Cub 

if it should try to chew the dog’s tail off. But 
Jimmie didn’t understand. He didn’t know that 
dogs have gods and that it was to Bruce’s god 
that he owed his life. All that Jimmie knew 
was that he had been scared almost to death and 
that the thing which scared him was to be 
avoided in future. Hence Lucy’s failure to 
effect a formal introduction. 

But Jimmie’s disapproval of Bruce did not 
necessarily extend to other dogs, and he had 
some very intimate canine friends. One of 
these was a cur of low degree named Bingo, 
who lived at a farm half a mile away. Some¬ 
times Jimmie went to call on him, but usually 
Bingo came to our house. Bingo was of no 
particular breed—or as some one put it he 
was of many unparticular breeds. Neverthe¬ 
less, he was a very lovable dog. He was black 
and tan in color, and his eyes and tail seemed 
to vie with one another in appearing happy 
and friendly. All the small boys for miles 
around made a pal of Bingo. He was the dog 
they took with them when they went fishing or 
berrying or when they went to round up the 
cows. There was only one youngster whom 



26 


Jimmie 


Bingo liked better than these—that was Jimmie. 
The two seemed to have a complete understand¬ 
ing and I have seldom seen two animals have 
such glorious times together. They ran side by 
side through the fields, played tag around the 
barn, and when they were so winded that they 
didn’t seem able to run another yard they would 
lie on the lawn about a foot apart and just gaze 
at one another until they recovered their breath. 
Then perhaps they would wrestle, each animal 
rising on his hind legs in an effort to down his 
opponent. Usually they would keep up the 
wrestling match until Jimmie was tired. Some¬ 
times Bingo seemed to be tired first, but if 
Jimmie had a good hold on him, that didn’t 
make any difference—they went straight on with 
the game. If, as occasionally happened, Bingo 
continued to be strenuous after Jimmie had had 
enough, the bear would try to escape by climb¬ 
ing a tree. In this he was seldom successful, for 
although the dog could not climb, he could jump 
beautifully. Just as the cub seemed to be safe, 
Bingo would leap after him and, seizing his 
short tail or hind foot, bring him tumbling to 
the ground again. 




The Story of a Black Bear Cub 


27 


Jimmie wanted but little here below; in fact 
he wanted nothing but his own way. And he 
usually had it because it made life easier for the 
rest of us—not much easier, just easier. One 



He Was a Connoisseur of Milk 


thing he was very particular about was the milk 
he drank for breakfast—it had to be “this morn- 

1 

ing’s” milk. It was of no use to offer him “last 
night’s” milk, no matter how cool it had been 
kept or how sweet it was. Jimmie was a con- 









28 Jimmie 

noisseur of milk. He would detect the “fraud” 
at once and set up a wail which we were glad to 
stop at almost any price. As soon as the new 
milk was set before him he almost wallowed in 
it and the wailing ceased automatically. After 
he had absorbed all the milk and crackers he 
wanted, he was ready to play. He would roll 
about, on the lawn, biting his own feet, and then 
for no apparent reason he would dash straight 
up a tree. His method of climbing was inter¬ 
esting and different from that used by most ani¬ 
mals. He ascended a trunk by a series of leaps, 
digging his hind toes in below him, springing 
from them, throwing his sturdy forearms up¬ 
ward and around the tree to get a fresh and 
loftier hold after every jump. He mounted 
with an agility one hardly would have accredited 
him. Coming down was a much more serious 
business, at least in the early days. Later he 
became more skilful and could even slide, but 
at first he would come down very slowly, and 
with almost unbelievable caution, like an elderly 
gentleman descending a precipice. Tail first he 
would come, stopping frequently to look down 
as though seeking a new foothold, and some- 


I he Story of a Black Bear Cub 29 

times grumbling a little as if to let us know that 
he realized the horrible danger he was in. But 
he always reached the ground in safety, and at 
once was ready for another adventure. 



Next to Feeding His Greatest Pleasure 
Was Bathing 


Next to feeding, his greatest pleasure was 
bathing; so soon after breakfast we would bring 
out a large washtub, fill it with water, and into 
it he would get. Sometimes before getting in 
he would walk around it on his hind legs, dip¬ 
ping in his forepaws as though to see if the tern- 










30 


Jimmie 


perature was all right. Or, perhaps, he would 
dance around it like a young Indian, scooping 
up the water with his little “hands” and dashing 
it over everything and everybody within reach. 
Then he would get into the tub and sit down on 



He Seemed to Be Particular about the Temperature 


his haunches, or if the water was not too deep, 
he would roll around on his back and wash his 
face with his wet paws. After he had splashed 
as much as he cared to, he would suddenly jump 
out of his bath, and with water squirting from 
his long coat at every leap, chase anyone who 
happened to be near. If it were a woman, so 






3 1 


The Story of a Black Bear Cub 

much the better, because she would probably 
scream and that always seemed to add to the 
fun. It was quite useless for the pursued to try 
to climb out of his reach; climbing was Jim¬ 
mie’s long suit. The only safety was behind a 
closed door—a door with a latch. A door which 
closed simply with a spring, he could open as 
well as I could. First he would pull it ajar with 
one of his forepaws, and then insert his muzzle. 
In the kitchen there was a screen door which 
closed with a spring in this way, and he knew 
how to open this door at once. Whether he had 
done the trick before or not, I don't know. At 
the front hall there was another screen door, and 
it so happened that while the kitchen door 
opened at the right, the front door opened at the 
left. 

Here was a chance to test the little bear’s 
knowledge of doors, so, when I saw that he was 
very anxious to enter the house, I latched the 
kitchen door, and let him go around to the front. 
At once it was evident that he had had no experi¬ 
ence with doors which opened at the left, for he 
devoted all his energies to the right-hand side, 
and for many minutes worked hard at the crack 



32 


Jimmie 


close to the springs and hinges. After he had 
given it up as a bad job, I brought him back, and 
opened the door just an inch or two. In a 
moment he inserted his nose, and ever afterward 
he was able to open that door as easily as the 
other one. 

As soon as Jimmie was considered big enough 
to go for a walk with me he went. I took one 
black paw in my right hand and for a short dis¬ 
tance he walked along like a little man. But he 
soon got tired of the upright position and I let 
him go on all fours. The world was very new 
and full of interest for him, and apparently he 
wanted to see it all that very day. He chewed 
the grass and sniffed the wild flowers and made 
clumsy attempts to catch the butterflies which 
hovered over them. He entered all the deserted 
houses, climbed into the cupboards, looked care¬ 
fully up the chimneys, and acted generally as if 
he were thinking of renting a place for the 
summer. Once he had a fearful adventure. In 
the yard of one of the houses was an old-fash¬ 
ioned well sweep and Jimmie, after eyeing the 
tall, slanting pole, decided to climb it. It was 
stiff from disuse and never moved until he 



Started Out for Our First Walk 













* 







The Story of a Black Bear Cub 35 

reached the very top, when to his surprise and 
horror it tipped over and brought him to the 
ground with a bump. Luckily the well itself 
had been boarded up. But young bears are very 
strongly made and he was much more scared 
than hurt. A few minutes later he seemed to 
have forgotten all about it. At any rate he 
shinned to the top of the next signpost we came 
to, very much to the amusement of a passing 
rustic who remarked with a grin, “I guess that 
b’ar wants to see how fur he is from hum.” 

Along the country road we went, Jimmie gal¬ 
loping gaily, now in front, now behind, and 
making frequent excursions into the woods on 
either hand to satisfy his curiosity, or to pick 
wild raspberries, of which he was very fond. 
When he came to a raspberry bush, he would 
first eat those which hung near the ground, and 
then, standing on his hind legs, he would pull 
the tall branches down to him with his fore¬ 
paws. The amount of energy he displayed was 
remarkable. He never seemed to know what it 
was to be tired even after the most violent exer¬ 
tion. After galloping perhaps a hundred yards 
to catch up, he would make a playful run at me, 


Jimmie 


36 

biting at my legs and giving me a vigorous hug 
and shake with his forepaws, breaking away 
only to dash up a tree to a point perhaps fifty 
feet from the ground, without so much as a twig 
to aid him in his ascent. Here he would prob¬ 
ably chew the green leaves for a moment, and 
then he would come sliding down, tail first, and 
at once break into a gallop to make up for the 
ground he had lost. He would march boldly 
along the tops of stone walls, walk slowly and 
cautiously on wobbly rail fences, and rush up the 
trunks of trees when there was nothing more 
exciting on hand. Sometimes he would remain 
up a tree so long that I got far ahead of him on 
the road, or sometimes I would hide in the long 
grass and call him to see what he would do. Ap¬ 
parently he seldom followed my trail by scent, as 
a dog would have done, but relied on his ears 
and eyes, and chiefly on the latter. At the sound 
of my voice, he would stand straight up on his 
hind legs, and I would see him peering in my 
direction, over the tops of the grass blades. If I 
called again, or if he caught sight of me, down 
he would drop, and, taking the general direction, 
he would gallop toward me. Then, as soon as 



Would March Boldly along the Tops of Stone Walls 












39 


The Story of a Black Bear Cub 

he was in doubt, up on his hind legs he would 
go to get his bearings again. When at last he 
found me, he seemed satisfied, but showed not 
the least sign of affection, such as a fox or even a 
wolf would have shown, but simply ran along as 
before. 

Presently at the crossroads, he spied a large 
stone watering trough, and he seemed to decide 
at once just what it was for. He scrambled up 
the side, flopped into the water, swam back and 
forth a few times, slipped down into the road 
again, and—shook his dripping coat all over me. 
We crossed a wall and were walking through 
the fields when I saw a farmer driving down the 
road on a mowing machine. His horses, evi¬ 
dently thirsty from their work in the sun, swung 
expectantly toward the watering trough. Their 
muzzles had almost touched the water when up 
came their heads, and they stood there snorting 
and refusing to drink. The farmer coaxed them 
and patted them but nothing could induce them 
to change their minds. Then I called to their 
owner and told him that Jimmie had spoiled the 
water for them by swimming through it. Only 
after he had emptied the trough, scrubbed it 



4 o 


Jimmie 


thoroughly from end to end with bunches of 
coarse grass, rinsed it well, and filled it again, 
would the horses slake their thirst. 

By and by we came to a lake, and Jimmie 
plunged in and took a swim, after which he 
came out and shook himself like a dog. Then 



Jimmie Plunged in and Took a Swim 


I sat down to see what he would do. He wan¬ 
dered away, paddling in the shallow water near 
the margin. On a flat stone, close to the bank, a 
muskrat was sitting, quietly rubbing his nose, 
and I expected to see him dive long before 
Jimmie came near him. But he didn’t move, 
and Jimmie failed to see him until they were 






The Story of a Black Bear Cub 41 

close together. Then the little bear stuck out his 
nose to investigate, and the muskrat turned to 
face him, whereupon Jimmie rose on his hind 
legs, and looked down on the muskrat, as though 
not quite sure what to do. Then he came down 
on all fours, and again advanced, sniffing for in¬ 
formation. The muskrat, perhaps thinking it 
was time to resent this impudence, made a jump 
at the bear, snapped his teeth once, and quickly 
turned to run. But he was not quick enough for 
Jimmie, who struck out with one black paw and 
bowled the muskrat over on the bank. But the 
rat quickly recovered his balance, and dived into 
the water. 

Jimmie’s blood was up now, and into the lake 
he plunged. Just what took place then I cannot 
say, as there was such a splashing of water, but 
at any rate the muskrat turned and bit the little 
bear in the nose, and Jimmie, perhaps realizing 
that he was at a disadvantage in the water, 
turned and fled, howling and panic-stricken, to 
the bank, and did not stop until he was safe in 
the branches of a tree. I have seldom seen so 
funny a sight, and it was a pity that Jimmie 
could not enjoy it as much as I did. He stayed 


42 


Jimmie 


up in that tree and amused himself by chewing 
the leaves and bark until he was ready to go 
home. 

When we got back I saw a man on our roof, 
shingling it, and after a few words with him I 



Jimmie Went Up the Ladder to Find Out Who Was 

on the Roof 


went into the house, leaving Jimmie outside. 
Presently I heard a frightful yell, and running 
into the garden I saw the man, perfectly white, 
leaning against a chimney and wiping the mois¬ 
ture from his forehead. It appeared that Jim- 





43 


The Story of a Black Bear Cub 

mie, seeing some one on the roof, had gone up 
the ladder to find out who it was. The man 
bending over his work did not even know of the 
bear’s existence, and the noise of his hammer 
prevented him from hearing the slight sound 
behind him. Imagine his terror, when, without 
a word of warning, two stout hairy arms were 
thrown tight round his throat and jaws like a 
steel trap closed on the back of his neck. He 
said he thought that the Devil had got him, and 
judging by the yell he gave I can quite believe 
him. 

After that Jimmie went walking with me 
almost every day. Indeed, it was by no means 
an easy matter to leave him at home even if I 
wanted to. If he were loose he would go with 
me whether he was invited or not, and if I shut 
him up—well, I had no one to blame but myself. 
I tried it once, and the hole he chewed in the 
door was almost as big as the noise he made. I 
didn’t hear the noise, because I was away, but I 
heard other things when I returned, and the 
orders from headquarters were that in future 
Jimmie was to accompany me everywhere ex¬ 
cept to church unless there was some awfully 



44 


Jimmie 


good reason why he shouldn't. So I had a great 
deal of his company that summer, and I enjoyed 
it immensely. There was nothing monotonous 
about him, he was always doing something 
different. 



He Sees a Cow for the First Time 


I shall never forget the first time he saw a 
cow. There were several grazing in a field 
next to the road and Jimmie stood up on his hind 
legs at a fence post to watch them. Presently 
the cows looked up and saw him standing there, 
and no doubt he was just as strange a sight to 
them as they were to him. So one of them, over- 






The Story of a Black Bear Cub 45 

come by curiosity, I suppose, walked over to get 
a better look at him. When she got reasonably 
near she stopped, and Jimmie, as if willing to 
meet her halfway, ducked under the barbed wire 
and walked straight up to her. Then when they 
were face to face, he stood erect. He seemed to 
be especially attracted by her ears—the largest, 
the hairiest, the most interesting ears he had ever 
seen. He put out his paws and began to examine 
one of them. This was a liberty which the cow 
resented promptly. Charging like a battering 
ram, she knocked him spinning under the barbed 
wire fence and for twenty feet among the clover 
and buttercups on the other side. With a dis¬ 
gusted “Wow!” the cub picked himself up, and 
came running to me, muttering and grumbling 
as if he thought I was to blame for his discom- 
forture. Perhaps he came only for sympathy, 
in which case he got what he came for, because 
after all he was only a baby and the cow had 
been very rough! 

A few days later we were going through a 
pasture where there was a cow with a small calf. 
As soon as she saw Jimmie, she seemed to re¬ 
member an appointment she had with him. She 



threw her tail in the air and started for him at 
her very best pace, but Jimmie had had one 
painful experience with a cow quite recently and 
he wasn’t going to have another one right away 
if he could help it. The fence around the pas- 



He Stood on His Hind Legs to Examine the Cow’s Ears 


ture was a high one, and he ran for it just as 
hard as he could hump his little back. The cow 
followed in hot pursuit. Jimmie got there first 
and quickly scrambled up a fence post out of 
reach. Bossy, seeing him safe, stopped about 
ten feet away and looked up at him. The cub, 



47 


The Story of a Black Bear Cub 

from the top of the post looked down at the cow. 
Then , as if a bright idea had occurred to him, 
he scrambled down again and walked slowly out 
to meet the enemy. The cow seemed to realize 



Jimmie Struck the Cow on the Jaw and Scrambled Back Up the 

Fence Post 


that her chance was coming and she lowered her 
head, all ready to rush in and toss him over the 
fence the moment she was sure of him. But 
Jimmie had a surprise in store for her. Instead 
of walking right up as he did to the other cow ; 
he stopped a little short of this one, and arose on 





his sturdy hind legs. Then, without prelimi¬ 
naries, he “squared off” like a fly-weight prize 
fighter, swung for her jaw with “right” and 
“left,” and landed twice. Then, with something 
very like a sneer on his impudent little face, he 
scrambled back up the fence post before the cow 
could recover from her astonishment. 


CHAPTER III 

SKYLARKING IN THE BLUE MOUN¬ 
TAIN FOREST 

We had planned to leave the Haven Cottage 
in the latter part of the summer and move to the 
north end of the forest, where an old house at 
“Sunset Ridge 1 ' was being remodeled for us. 
As work on this place had been delayed for sev¬ 
eral weeks, we engaged rooms at a farmhouse 
near the West Pass Gate, whither we went with 
a good-sized zoo, including wolves, foxes, rac¬ 
coons, and—last and most mischievous—Jimmie, 
the black bear cub. Our hostess, Mrs. K., the 
farmer's wife, was a portly woman with a heart 
big enough to include us all, and though among 
us we must have tried her patience sorely, she 
strove to treat each member of the menagerie as 
an honored guest in her hospitable home. Since 
then she has left the Blue Mountain and has 

gone where all good women go; but she has left 

49 




Jimmie 


SO 

with us the memory of her smile, and of her 
unchangeable good nature. 

Almost every day I went for a walk in the 
Park, and usually Jimmie was with me. He was 
never at heel but roamed where he pleased, al¬ 
ways busy and seemingly contented. Sometimes 
I would not see him for half an hour at a time, 
and then he would suddenly appear, perhaps 
sliding down a tree by the side of the trail, per¬ 
haps galloping up from the rear, scattering 
water collected during a recent swim. 

It was this habit of staying away from me 
which resulted in my losing him one day. In 
vain I hunted for him and called him, he simply 
was not to be found and very reluctantly I went 
home without him. Early next morning to our 
great relief he returned to the farmhouse, and 
he seemed quite glad to see us all again. Later 
we found out that he had discovered and at¬ 
tended a picnic, that he had invited himself to 
lunch, and that he had stuffed himself until he 
really didn’t care whether he ever went home. 

When he didn’t want to be lost, one couldn’t 
lose him. Once when I wished to be alone I 
gave him the slip and tramped across the moun- 


The Story of a Black Bear Cub 51 

tain to a wooded pond which I wanted to ex¬ 
plore. I stepped into a canoe and paddled off 
but I had barely gone a hundred yards before I 
heard a noise from the woods behind me. I 
turned and there was Jimmie coming down to 



He Swam after the Canoe 


the shore at a hand gallop. He looked up and 
saw me, and, without a moment’s hesitation, 
plunged into the water and swam after the 
canoe. Of course it would have been an easy 
matter to outdistance him, but he had shown 
such pluck that I hadn’t the heart to do it. So 
I stopped and waited for him, and then at the 








52 


Jimmie 


risk of upsetting my rather ticklish craft, I gave 
him a hand and helped him aboard. 

Early in the autumn there is hunting in the 
Blue Mountain Forest, and one evening Jimmie 
took part in a deer hunt. He joined a small 
party of hunters just as they were starting out, 
and they stopped for a little while to play with 
him. Forest Kimpton, the guide, who knew the 
cub, strongly urged that it would save time and 
trouble to take him home and lock him up in the 
barn, but the hunters thought that he was such 
good company that it would be fun to let him go 
part way with them at least. So he went until 
they came to a very high fence with a tall gate 
leading into the forest. This, it seemed, would 
be a good place to say good-by to Jimmie, so 
in spite of his noisy protests at being left behind 
they shut the gate in his face and continued their 
journey. They had gone perhaps two miles 
when they arrived at a knoll upon which was 
the ruined foundation of an old farmhouse. 
Here they decided to sit down and watch for 
deer. Down they sat in silence, but not for long. 
Presently they heard a rustling in the lilac 
bushes at one end of the ruin, and out dashed 



At the Risk of Upsetting 


My Canoe I Helped Him Aboard 











The Story of a Black B ear Cub 55 

Jimmie, his mouth open and seemingly short of 
breath as if he had been hurrying. His attitude 
was that of a small boy on discovering some pals, 
who, after playing a trick on him, had run away 
to hide. 

kk Ha-ha, you rascals!” he seemed to say. 
“You thought I wouldn’t find you, didn’t you? 
Well, here I am, and now I’m going to get even 
with you for that low-down trick you played 
me.” And he certainly did get even with them. 
He stood on his hind legs before one of the 
seated men, and with a vigorous “swat” knocked 
his hat down over his eyes. Then he rushed at 
another and grabbed his rifle, the sights of which 
were badly twisted in the scrimmage which fol¬ 
lowed. In vain the men told him to “Stop it!” 
In vain they swore at him, at first in low tones 
and then in louder, and finally when they cuffed 
him, he bit them and bawled at the top of his 
lungs. In the meantime Kimpton the guide, 
who had warned them before they started, just 
lay on his back, waved his legs in the air, and 
“chortled in his joy.” 

Jimmie stopped suddenly of his own accord. 
Something over in the woods had caught his 


Jimmie 


56 

attention, and without waiting to investigate he 
dashed up an elm tree growing near by, keeping 



Jimmy Developed a Great Fondness for Boxing and Wrestling 


its trunk between himself and whatever he had 
seen. Reaching the first branch about ten feet 
up, he held himself steady and peered very cau- 


57 


The Story of a Black Bear Cub 

tiously around the tree. The hunters, following 
the direction of his gaze, saw a well-antlered 
head looking out from between the trees. It 
was a white-tailed buck, evidently divided be¬ 
tween fear of the noise and curiosity to see 
what was making it. He presented an almost 
impossible shot, but if Jimmie would only be 
quiet the deer might change his position or even 
come nearer. But Jimmie had no idea of keep¬ 
ing quiet. “O-o-hr said he, as though he 
was perfectly astounded at seeing a deer in the 
Blue Mountain Forest. Then quickly looking 
around the other side of the tree, he repeated 
“O-O-O-H!” in a horrified voice, as if now for 
the first time he realized that this was the most 
dreadful thing he had ever seen in his life. He 
looked and sounded so amusingly absurd that 
for the moment the hunters forgot the buck, 
until the latter gave an explosive snort, threw his 
white flag in the air and bounded away out of 
sight. 

By this time Jimmie had developed a great 
fondness for boxing and wrestling, and when he 
had a choice he would always select for his part¬ 
ner a woman or a child. From experience he 


Jimmie 


58 

had learned that men and boys were often rough, 
but that usually women and children were gentle 
and less likely to hurt him. But, playful and 
good-natured as he was, there was little of chiv¬ 
alry in Jimmie’s composition, and if he saw a 
good chance to bat a lady in the eye or push a 
child’s nose into the mud, he gleefully did so, 
and appeared to thoroughly enjoy his opponent’s 
discomfort. If I were on the spot as often hap¬ 
pened, I would of course rescue the victim, and 
administer a severe rebuke to the bear; and he 
would literally sit up and take notice, appar¬ 
ently paying strict attention to every word I said 
to him. But I fear that my reprimands never 
had any lasting effect, for he would do the same 
thing next day—yes, even the next minute, if a 
good opportunity occurred. One day when I 
was scolding him for his roughness to a lady 
from Boston, a very queer thing happened. He 
heard me through to the end, then turning 
toward me, he raised his right paw, placed his 
“thumb” to his nose and extended his fingers. 
Of course I am well aware that it was an acci¬ 
dental pose and that he could not possibly have 
any knowledge of its significance, but to the 



59 


The Story of a Black Bear Cub 

casual observer it certainly looked as if he were 
trying to show a vulgar contempt for my re¬ 
marks. The Boston lady, already somewhat 
prejudiced because of his roughness, walked 



Sometimes He Was More Rude than Usual 


away with the remark, “I don’t think he’s at all a 
nice person to know.” 

There were days when no visitors came, but 
Jimmie got along very nicely, for on a farm there 
are no end of opportunities for fun if one only 
takes advantage of them. 

One afternoon the farmer’s wife had milked 



6 o 


Jimmie 


the cows and was returning up the hill to the 
house with the foaming pail, when she spied 
Jimmie ambling down to meet her, mischief in 
every motion and in every glance of his comical 
eyes. Well she knew that she was “in for it.” 
Had she been a little nearer the barn she would 
have retreated behind its sheltering door; had 
she had a Suzannah Cocroft figure she might 
have tried to dodge or run away. But when one 
has never heard of a “Key to the Calories” and 
has neglected the “Daily Dozen” until one’s lati¬ 
tude is equal to one’s longitude, there is no use 
trying to evade an active bear cub, especially 
when one has an additional handicap in the form 
of a full milk pail. So the good lady could only 
stand her ground, and await the onslaught. She 
did not have to wait long, however, for a moment 
later Jimmie stood on his hind legs in front of 
her, threw his stout forearms around the pail, 
and thrust his long nose deep into the warm milk. 
In vain she tried to pull the pail away; it seemed 
to be glued to him. Mrs. Baynes ran to help 
her, and in response to their combined shouts I 
ran to help them both. But it is said that “God 
helps those who help themselves,” so I guess 



e Would Pay Strict Attention to Every Word I Said 








The Story of a Black Bear Cub 63 

Jimmie had God on his side. At all events I 
was quite too late, for this four-legged suction 
pump had practically emptied the pail when I 
finally succeeded in prying him loose. 

This is only one of the many memories he has 
left of our stay at that farmhouse. Perhaps the 
most surprising incident occurred the day he was 
locked in the cellar to keep him out of the pan¬ 
try, where, we might mention in passing, there 
was a huge hogshead into which flowed the 
purest of drinking water from a spring on the 
hillside behind the barn. Our buxom hostess, 
busy in the kitchen, suddenly became aware of a 
most unusual noise behind the pantry door. It 
was much too loud for rats, there were no squir¬ 
rels in the house, and of course Jimmie had been 
safe in the cellar all afternoon. Seizing a roll¬ 
ing-pin she strode across the kitchen, and after 
one moment’s hesitation, flung wide the door. 
The sight astonished her so that she dropped the 
rolling-pin and collapsed into an armchair. 
The pantry looked as if it had been through a 
fire—and a flood. The floor and almost every¬ 
thing else was soused with water, and sodden 
cookies lay helplessly among the broken jam 


Jimmie 


64 

pots. In the floor was a ragged hole, and chunks 
of rotten wood added to the general desolation. 
But it was not this which had caused the portly 
hostess to collapse; it was the figure of Jimmie, 
the picture of saturated deviltry, standing to his 
chest in the water barrel, and, with his paws 
working like the paddles of a mill wheel, batting 
the water in every direction. Left alone in the 
cellar, he had climbed upon a pile of lumber, 
and finding the old floor near the barrel soft and 
punky, he had ripped a hole in it with his strong 
claws and climbed up into what to him was 
heaven itself. 

At last our house at Sunset Ridge was ready 
and we prepared to move into it. In addition 
to household furniture there were the animals to 
move, and these were taken in large cages made 
of wire netting stretched on frames of wood. 
There were several wagonloads and some of the 
“live stock” was placed on each wagon. I 
elected to ride on the same load with Jimmie. 
His cage was placed on the bottom, and tables, 
chairs, and other chattels were piled on top of it. 
The sides were exposed so that he got plenty of 
air, and I could look in at him whenever I 


The Story of a Black Bear Cub 65 

wanted to see how he was getting along. It was 
the first time he had ever been in a cage, and 
thinking that possibly he might decide to tear his 
way through the netting, I had taken the pre¬ 
caution to secure him with a leather collar and a 
chain which I had bought for the occasion. As 
I had expected, he did not enjoy the ride. He 
grumbled from the moment he was chained up 
and for the greater part of that long journey his 
protests grew louder and louder. He walked 
round and round at the end of his tether, and 
presently I noticed that the chain was growing 
shorter. He was twisting it into bunches because 
the swivel wasn't working properly. But it was 
a long chain so I didn't worry until the horses 
began to climb the last hill. Then I could see 
that almost all the links were twisted into one big 
bunch, and that Jimmie’s head was tied very 
short indeed. But we were now within five min¬ 
utes of our destination and then his troubles 
would be over. Little did I think what was 
going to happen in less than half that time. 
Still protesting loudly the bear turned around 
again, a long wail was cut short in the middle 
and the cage was silent. Slipping over the side 


66 


Jimmie 


of the wagon I looked in. His last turns had 
twisted the leather collar itself until it bit into 
his neck—he was strangling to death. I sprang 
to the top of the load and with a sharp jackknife 
cut the ropes which held it, and calling to the 
driver to help me I began to fling the furniture 
on to the side of the road. There happened to 
be a ledge of rock cropping out just there, and 
the legs of tables and chairs split and snapped as 
they fell. 

“Th is bureau’ll bust sure,” warned the careful 
driver. 

u Let it bust,” I yelled; “we’ve got to save this 
bear.” 

And U bust” it did. But now knife in hand I 
yanked open the cage door and crawled inside. 
I was just too late. Jimmie’s head was held 
tight and his tongue protruded from his frothing 
mouth. I pressed the keen blade against the 
taut leather, the severed ends of the collar leaped 
apart, and the limp body of the bear cub fell 
backward, rolled over, and lay still. 

It was a very sad moment, and it was all my 
fault. I should have examined the chain and 
made sure that the swivel was working—and I 





After a Long Walk Jimmie Would Sit Down and Rest 


















The Story of a Black Bear Cub 69 

might have saved him anyway if I had not been 
too lazy to unload half an hour ago. I lifted 
him out, laid him on the grass, and sat down 
beside him. The driver, with his cap in one 
hand, stood scratching his head with the other. 
Then he turned away and began to pile the 
broken furniture on to the wagon again. The 
world must go on it seemed, even if Jimmie was 
dead. 

Then something touched my arm. I turned 
toward the little body, and the hind leg nearest 
me was moving slowly. I called to the driver 
and as he came running up Jimmie’s “corpse” 
turned partly over and we saw his sides heave as 
he took a deep breath. 

“He ain’t dead,” shouted the man aggres¬ 
sively, as if the louder he made the assertion the 
truer it would be. Perhaps it did help, for 
Jimmie certainly opened his eyes, and after 
taking a few more deep breaths he managed to 
stagger to his feet. And I—well, it seemed 
as if I hadn’t a care in the world. I just took 
that wobbly bear cub in my arms, and carried 
him up the hill to his new home. 



CHAPTER IV 


FROLICS AT SUNSET RIDGE 

THERE may have been some one within twenty 
miles of Sunset Ridge who did not know Jimmie, 
but I doubt it. Almost all who knew him 
seemed to consider it their duty (certainly it was 
not always their pleasure) to call upon him, to 
pay their respects and to get a lesson in what one 
wag termed “b’arcubology.” Jimmie received 
them all—with delight, condescension, indiffer¬ 
ence, or unfeigned disgust, according to his mood 
at the time. Not infrequently there seemed to 
be some subtle relationship between his mood 
and the space of time which had elapsed since 
his last meal. 

One Sunday thirty-two carriageloads of peo¬ 
ple unloaded themselves on our premises during 
the day, as many more came on foot, and one 
man brought a sick child in a wheelbarrow. 
None of them were friends of ours, not one of 
them even asked for us. We had only recently 

70 


The Story of a Black B ear Cub 71 

moved into the house, and we were a good eight 
miles from the railroad and three from the post 
office, and “uphill both ways” as New Hamp¬ 
shire folk say. But Jimmie had achieved noto¬ 
riety and these were his visitors, and as he was 
on hand to entertain them, all we had to do was 
to sit at an upper window and watch the fun. 

Among the first to arrive was a lady with a 
little child two or three years old. Jimmie was 
lying quietly on the lawn chewing grass, and 
did not rise to greet them. 

“See, darling!” See the pretty baby bear!” 
said the lady, advancing confidently and letting 
go of the youngster’s hand. “Baby pat the pretty 
bear,” and without hesitation the little one 
toddled up and patted our friend on the head. 
Jimmie took this familiarity as an invitation to 
wrestle, and gravely arose on his hind legs and 
clasped the baby in his sturdy arms. The fright¬ 
ened youngster, with its eyes nearly popping out 
of its head, screamed and tumbled over back¬ 
ward, and Jimmie letting go his hold stood erect 
and eyed his supposed antagonist as though 
greatly surprised at the sudden termination of 
the contest. In the meantime, the mother, 


7 2 


Jimmie 


thoroughly scared, snatched the child up in her 
arms and drove off with a remark not altogether 
complimentary to owners of bear cubs. She had 
had a very inexpensive lesson in which she had 
learned something of the folly of taking liberties 
with animals before knowing anything whatever 
of their behavior, strength, and disposition. She 
would be wiser in the future, perhaps. 

The next to come along were two men, one of 
whom carried in his hand a basket of apples. 
Thinking to attract the bear, he held out the 
basket toward him. As the cub approached the 
man attempted to withdraw the offering, but 
there was an indignant U waugh!” as a black arm 
shot out and a set of strong claws were hooked 
over the rim of the basket. In the struggle 
which followed half the apples were scattered 
over the lawn, and after Jimmie had settled 
down with a ripe one which he ate off the back 
of his paw, he allowed the man to gather up the 
others. 

One of the most amusing incidents of the 
afternoon occurred almost exactly opposite the 
window from which we were looking. Among 
the visitors was a very nervous young woman, 





Lucy with Actaeon the Deer, Jimmie the Bear, and Romulus the Coyote 




The Story of a Black Bear Cub 75 

whose curiosity was even greater than her fear 
of the bear. She was more than plump and Jim¬ 
mie seemed possessed with a desire to hug her. 
For a long time she managed to avoid him. 
Anxious as she was to see everything he did she 
was constantly on the lookout lest he should come 
too close. By and by, however, she saw him 
playing with a group of children at a distance, 
and relaxing her vigilance, she turned to talk 
with some friends. Soon there came a wild 
shriek. Jimmie had observed her off her guard, 
had come at full speed from the rear, struck her 
just behind the knees, and knocked her legs from 
under her. She sat down with surprising sud¬ 
denness, and Jimmie, having no time to retreat, 
was caught as in a dead fall trap. For a moment 
I thought he had been killed, but presently I 
heard a muffled “waugh!” and the young woman 
sprang to her feet with an agility I should never 
have believed possible if I hadn’t witnessed it. 
Jimmie picked himself up and limped away 
with many grumblings and a rueful look toward 
the fair lady who had so nearly smothered him. 
The lady herself, with a face the color of beet¬ 
root, scrambled into her carriage and drove off 


76 Jimmie 

without so much as a glance at the author of her 
discomfort. 

The young bear made many friends, including 
a deer, and a coyote named Romulus. The latter 
was his special chum, but also a thorn in his side, 
for the little prairie wolf had a habit of running 
up behind the cub, biting him in the hind legs, 
and running away again before Jimmie could 
retaliate. But Jimmie was one of the best- 
natured animals I have ever known. The other 
animals around the place might do anything 
they liked to him, even take the food right out 
of his mouth, without any protest from Jimmie 
—provided that the food did not happen to be 
plum pudding. Jimmie was powerful fond of 
th is dish and his old friend, the housekeeper, 
knew his weakness and made a great many plum 
puddings—ostensibly for our family. Jimmie 
got most of them. One day she gave him a 
generous helping in a saucepan and Jimmie 
sat out in the snow, his arms about the pan 
and his nose buried to the hilt in the pudding, 
having the time of his young life. Then a 
crunching of the snow crust warned him that 
some one was approaching and he looked up to 




1 he Story of a Black Bear Cub 77 

see who it was. A moment later a tame deer of 
ours hove in sight and Jimmie, realizing that a 
deer was not a formidable competitor, put his 
nose back into the saucepan and went right on 
with his dinner. But there was to be a more 



Jimmie Paid No Attention to the Deer 

serious interruption. Another and more stealthy 
crunching of the snow crust, and around the cor¬ 
ner of the house came the prairie wolf, full of 
mischief as any bad boy you ever saw. He ran 
straight up to Jimmie, and seizing the handle of 
the saucepan in his mouth, began to pull it away. 
Poor Jimmie was at a great disadvantage. In 




Jim mie 


78 

the first place he was sitting down. Moreover, 
his arms were occupied with the saucepan and 
his mouth was chock-full of plum pudding. All 
he could do was to make a choking, gurgling, 
grumbling protest, like a boy trying to “answer 
back 1 ’ and eat a whole doughnut at the same 
time. But the coyote didn't understand the lan¬ 
guage and it wouldn't have made any difference 
if he had. He just wanted that saucepan, and, 
with his teeth on the handle and his forefeet 
braced in the snow, he pulled and pulled like a 
bull terrier on the end of a rope. At last poor 
old Jimmie felt the pan slipping out of his icy 
grasp. Suddenly he dropped it, grabbed the 
prairie wolf in his short forearms, jammed him 
right down into the snow bank, and, whether 
intentionally or not, I cannot tell you, sat 
squarely on his body, picked up the sauce¬ 
pan, and finished the plum pudding in 
peace. 

Jimmie was really quite fond of me in his 
rough way, and was ready for a romp at almost 
any time. If he were getting the best of it, and 
I often let him, he would play almost indefi¬ 
nitely, but if I bested him or if he got hurt, he 



Jimmie Came Down the Road to Meet 











The Story of a Black Bear Cub 81 

was apt to walk away grumbling and turning to 
give me a reproachful glance, as much as to say, 
“I never expected that from you.” If he heard 
me returning from a walk or a lecture trip, he 
would come ambling down the road to meet me, 
to give me an affectionate hug and a playful 
bite. 

One day I was returning from a trip and had 
a suitcase in my hand. As Mrs. Baynes had 
come to meet me, along with Jimmie, I set the 
suitcase on the ground behind me while I 
greeted her. About two minutes later we turned 
around and discovered that Jimmie had quietly 
carried it off and torn it all to pieces. The 
housekeeper, of course, was sure he hadn’t 
done it. 

Once Jimmie went to sleep. When I saw him 
I ran for my camera and took a photograph of 
him, for fear I might never see him asleep again. 
And my fear was well founded, for during all 
the time he lived with us, never again did I see 
him sleeping. It is safe to assume that he slept, 
but from feelings of modesty or otherwise— 
probably otherwise—he did not sleep in public. 
Presumably he slept in his den. This snuggery 



82 


Jimmie 


was somewhere under the piazza. There was a 
hole leading to it, and into this hole he used to 
drag everything he had any use for, and appar¬ 
ently anything he thought he might have use for 
in the future. Once, I remember, it was endless 

1 i 

yards of stair carpet; another time it was the 
entire wash off the line. This last performance 
took place while we were all away from the 
house, and we learned the details from an ex¬ 
cited small boy who had been an eyewitness to 
a piece of deviltry he had not quite dared to 
halt. Both Jimmie and Romulus were impli¬ 
cated. It began when the bear cub tried to 
climb the clothes prop and knocked it down. 
Deprived of its support the washing dropped 
within easy reach, and Jimmie in attempting a 
slack-rope performance broke one end of the 
line. At this stage of the proceedings the coyote 
appeared and he and the bear joined forces in an 
attempt to carry off the whole wash at once. But 
only one end of the line being broken, their best 
efforts were frustrated, until Romulus used his 
teeth and cut the other end. The allies now 
started to carry off their prize, but failing to 
agree on what was to be done with it, they soon 


% 



Once Jimmie Went to Sleep 







The Story of a Black Bear Cub 85 

came to a standstill. Then there was a long 
“conference” in which growls and yelps and nips 
and swats were the principal arguments used, 
and after coming to what seemed to be a dead¬ 
lock, apparently it was agreed that each should 
take whatever he could get. Then came a vio¬ 
lent tug of war in which “the washing” quite lost 
its freshness, and in fact became a total loss. 
Slowly the torn and muddy relics neared the 
entrance to the bear’s den. Rommy was game 
and worked with a snap, but Jimmie had the 
weight and weight is a most important factor in 
tug of war. At last Jimmie reached his goal and 
disappeared, followed by something that resem¬ 
bled a tattered and very muddy boa constrictor. 
Just before it vanished the little wolf made a 
last gallant effort to prevent the inevitable, and 
was rewarded with a consolation prize in the 
form of a single shirt sleeve, which he carried 
off with as much swagger as he could have used 
had he been trailing the whole lineful of clothes 
behind him. 

Throughout the autumn Jimmie had an 
enormous appetite and grew so fat that he re¬ 
quired more leisure. In addition to his regu- 


86 


Jimmie 


lar meals he ate large quantities of windfall 
apples. If these failed he would climb a tree, 
shake down a lot of sound ones, and then descend 
to munch them, usually crouching on the ground 
and eating the fruit as he held it with one paw 



Jimmie and Romulus Hold a Conference 

• 

upon the back of the other. Sometimes Rommy, 
the prairie wolf, would come and annoy him by 
taking his apples away from him. As a rule 
Rommy didn’t eat apples, but apparently he got 
a lot of fun stirring Jimmie to righteous wrath 
by snatching those which the bear had gathered 
for himself. On one occasion Mrs. Baynes saw 
him take away nine, one after another. Poor 
Jimmie was so slow and heavy that his half- 



The Story of a Black Bear Cub 87 

hearted attempts to catch his tormentor were 
simply wasted effort. Even if he had caught 
him, probably he would have done nothing 
worse than give him a warning nip. 

If this fattening up was a preparation for the 
intensely cold weather soon to come, it was not 
the only one. The work of lining the den under 
the piazza was now taken up with great energy. 
One day I left a sweater hanging on a tree and 
it disappeared. No one had seen it, and for 
some reason I never thought of Jimmie until the 
next day when I saw him enter his den with Mrs. 
Baynes’ straw sun hat in his mouth. Even then 
I had no time to attempt the recovery of these 
things. 

Not long after this we had a number of work¬ 
men engaged in digging out a spring and con¬ 
necting it with the house. When no one was 
looking Jimmie stole all their coats, one at a 
time, and dragged them into his burrow. At five 
o’clock, when they stopped work, of course the 
men missed their garments, and at once sus¬ 
pected Jimmie, who had been very much in evi¬ 
dence all afternoon. The first I knew about it 
was when I heard voices outside my study door 


88 


Jimmie 


and opened it to find a little crowd in shirt 
sleeves wanting to know what was to be done 
about it. There was only one thing that I could 
do, and that was to explore Jimmie’s retreat. It 
was not an expedition I had planned for that 
particular day, but the men were waiting to go 
home, and they seemed to be rather impatient. 
With a shovel I enlarged the entrance so that I 
could crawl in under the piazza. Then I wrig¬ 
gled along for thirty or forty feet to a corner ol 

I 

the foundation, and around this to an open space, 
where I came upon the den. The light was 
poor, but a better one would not have improved 
the picture before me. A large hollow had been 
scooped in the earth and it had been filled with 
a collection such as one might see at a rummage 
sale. On top were the latest contributions—the 
men’s coats, my lost sweater, and Mrs. Baynes’s 
sun hat. Below these in several layers were a 
piece of rag carpet, half a roll of grass matting, 
three socks, a lady’s stocking, a bath towel, a 
woolen muffler, and the remains of a very muddy 
“wash,” some of it still held by wooden pins to 
a piece of frayed clothesline. There were many 
more prizes in the packet but the men were 




Si 






« 


He Grew So Fat that He Required More Leisure 








9 1 


The Story of a Black Bear Cub 

waiting for their coats and I had to hurry back. 
Later I returned and saved a few articles, in¬ 
cluding a muffler and a pair of gloves, but most 
of the things looked better where they were than 
they would have done anywhere else. 

Visitors showed various reactions to Jimmie’s 
attentions. This was due partly to the differ¬ 
ences in the nervous systems of the visitors 
themselves, partly to the variety of ways which 
Jimmie had of stimulating the aforesaid nervous 
systems. Sometimes the stimulation was not 
confined to the nervous system. For example, I 
recall the case of a lame lady who had been 
brought to see us and who was sitting on the 
piazza. She had arrived on crutches and had 
not bent her knees for several years it was said. 
Jimmie sauntered around the corner headed in 
her direction and “with a merry little twinkle in 
his eye.” Then a miracle happened. Her long- 
disused knees began to bend, her feet began to 
rise very slowly from the floor, and by the time 

the cub reached her chair both her feet were on 

»• 

the seat of it. A moment later she was standing 
on the seat and I think that she might have 
jumped over the back if our hero had not been 


92 


Jimmie 


captured and led away. This incident gave 
Jimmie a local reputation as a healer. 

Sometimes he seemed to give people the im¬ 
pression that he was attempting highway rob¬ 
bery, and I doubt if Three-fingered Dick himself 
could have frightened them any more. One day 
there came a delegation from a Sunday School 
picnic. Jimmie selected one little boy of about 
twelve years, and, embracing him with his fore¬ 
paws, deliberately tried to pull his coat off with 
his teeth. The boy stood it for a time, but got 
more and more nervous as he found himself 
unable to get away from the bear, and finally 
burst out crying, and a man who was near went 
to his assistance. But Jimmie wanted that coat, 
and whenever he caught sight of the boy he 
made a rush at him, until the youngster became 
so alarmed that he went home. 

Quite different was the attitude of a little girl 
who came with her parents in a carriage and 
who, seeing Jimmie on the lawn, at once jumped 
out to play with him. The little girl had on 
white stockings, and for some reason Jimmie 
took a great fancy to these. Ignoring her efforts 
to make friends, he rushed at her ankles, and 



Jimmie Playing with the Author 



The Story of a Black Bear Cub 9^ 

soon it was hard to tell which was bear and 
which was girl, they were so mixed up. But 
the cub was only playing, and the child was not 
afraid, so I let them alone until the little girl 
was out of breath, and her stockings quite ready 
for the laundry. Then I held the bear until she 
hopped back into the carriage, where she sat 
with her mother and father to watch him. 

Then Jimmie made a serious error of judg¬ 
ment—he deliberately tried to shin up the hind 
leg of one of the horses. It was a thoroughly 
steady, dignified horse, but that was a bit too 
much even for him. He was not in the least 
excited, but he quietly raised his hind leg with 
Jimmie adhering to it, and kicked that impudent 
cub, if not into the middle of next week, at least 
into the farther end of this one. 

These people might be classed as irregular 
visitors. There were also many regular ones. 
Among the latter were the students of an old 
academy about two and a half miles from the 
house. This school has its weekly holiday on 
Monday instead of Saturday, so it was on Mon¬ 
day usually that groups of students came up to 
play with the bear. They came so often that he 



Jim mie 


96 

learned to know them very well, and as they 
usually brought him something to eat they were 
doubly welcome. When he heard them coming, 
he would start down the road to meet them. If 
they were boys he would stand on his hind legs 
and deliberately “frisk 11 them for the peanuts 
and candy which he hoped to find in their pock¬ 
ets. If they were girls, we usually knew it 
before they came in sight, for some of them were 
sure to run away when they saw the bear com¬ 
ing, and he was just as sure to run after them 
and make them giggle and scream. 

But perhaps the hired man was the one who 
had the most fun with him. He was around the 
place all the time and always doing something 
in which Jimmie was interested. He was strong 
but good-natured and Jimmie liked to wrestle 
with him because he was careful not to be too 
rough and hurt the cub as some men did. If he 
were sawing wood, J immie would seize the other 
end of the saw and look as if he were trying to 
do his share, and if the man started to take the 
wheelbarrow, the bear was very apt to climb in 
and have a free ride around the place. 

Then there were people who came chiefly to 



Jimmie Takes a Lesson in Sawing Wood 












































































99 


The Story of a Black Bear Cub 

enjoy the view. Our house was beautifully situ¬ 
ated on a mountainside with friendly trees for 
shade, and very often visitors would bring their 
lunch or supper and eat it in sight of Ascutney 
and the gorgeous sunsets behind the Green 
Mountains of Vermont. Jimmie liked to join 
them. He cared nothing for sunsets, but any¬ 
thing in the nature of food was worth investi¬ 
gation. Sometimes he really couldn't wait until 
the little packages of sandwiches and cake and 
things were opened, but just helped himself 
and literally “got away with it." Once he did 
something even worse than that. An elderly 
couple were driving up the hill behind a very 
fat and leisurely horse. Jimmie heard the 
wheels go by and came out of the barn, sniffing 
expectantly. His nose told him that there was 
food in that buggy, and his stomach told him 
that it was supper time. Usually he could con¬ 
trol his appetite until his hosts were ready to 
serve him, grumbling a little perhaps just to let 
them know that he was hungry. But that old 
horse was so slow that the bear's microscopic 
store of patience became exhausted. He stepped 
up to the back of the buggy, hoisted himself into 



> ) > 


IOO 


Jim mie 


it, lifted out a white cardboard box, jumped out, 
and disappeared behind the barn. 

The buggy stopped under a maple tree and 
the elderly couple got out. 



Jimmie Playing “Romeo” to Lucy’s 
“Juliet” 


“Why, Clarence,” said the old lady, as her 
husband was hitching the horse to a fence post, 
“I thought sure Td put that box o' cake under 



* c < 






The Story of a Black Bear Cub 101 

the seat. Well, here’s the sandwiches anyway; 
I guess we’ll have to make out with them, and 
eat the cake when we get home.” 

When winter came Jimmie did not really 
“den up” as many bears do, probably because 
there was no need of it. There was plenty of 
food for him, and although he spent a great pro¬ 
portion of his time under the piazza, there was 
rarely a day when he did not come out at least to 
see what was going on and to get a bite to eat. 
Very often he would make an appearance early 
in the morning. No doubt he heard Lucy mov¬ 
ing about and knew that it would soon be time 
for breakfast. He would come to the kitchen 
window, stand on his hind legs so that he could 
look in, and then attract her attention by grunt¬ 
ing and by rubbing his forepaws over the glass. 
Then we would hear her voice: 

“Just a minute, darlin’. Lucy has something 
nice for you.” 

The oven door would open and close, the 
window would be pushed up a few inches and 
a hot biscuit would be handed out with the 
warning: “Don’t burn yourself now. Oh, 


102 Jimmie 

don’t eat so fast. People will think we starve 
you.” 

He was great company for her and she would 
carry on the one-sided conversation with him as 


life '* 



He Stood Up in the Hole He Had Made, Looking Very Proud 


if he were a child. Sometimes for variety she 
would pretend to wash the inside of the windows 
and then call us to see how nicely Jimmie was 
helping her. There he would stand, and with a 
snowy forepaw pressed to the glass follow every 



With His Long Tongue He Would Lick Out the Condensed Milk 




The Story of a Black Bear Cub 105 

movement of her hand as she polished the other 
side of it. Then she would laugh and tell him 
that she was going to get him a job. 

It often happened that Actaeon, our tame 
deer, would come to get his breakfast at the 
same time. Then Lucy would have to be care¬ 
ful to see that Jimmie did not get more than his 
share. If in spite of her he took the deer’s bis¬ 
cuits as well as his own, Actaeon would turn, and 
raising one forefoot, bring his polished hoof 
down hard upon the head of the offender. 

The bear was very fond of playing in the 
snow. He would dig down into it until he had 
a big hole, and then stand up in the hole with 
his head and shoulders out, looking very proud. 
Lucy from the window would see him there and 
sometimes would carry out to him a partly-filled 
can of condensed milk. There was hardly any¬ 
thing he liked better, and holding the can 
between his forepaws, he would insert his 
long tongue and lick it out to the very last 
trace. 

He was always fond of pruning trees, espe¬ 
cially fruit trees. At first he used to climb up, 
bite off the branches, and watch them fall to the 


io6 


Jimmie 


ground. But when the deep snow came he 
found an easier way. He would simply lie on 
his back beneath a tree, and the lower branches 
now being within reach, he would pull them 
down with his paws and bite them off. And it 
was interesting to note that he did not leave them 
lying where they fell, but gathered them in a 
little heap which he added to from time to time. 
We always referred to it as Jimmie’s woodpile. 
Why he made it we never found out, for we 
never saw him use it. Possibly this behavior 
was connected in some way with the nest-making 
instinct. 

Once we saw him go through a curious per¬ 
formance apparently in a spirit of fun. He 
gathered some snow into a little ball and rolled 
it about the garden until it became a large ball. 
Then he stopped, deliberately put his head on it, 
turned a somersault, picked himself up, and vig¬ 
orously batted the big snowball to pieces with 
his paws. 

Occasionally he did still more remarkable 
things of which we can offer no explanation. 
One day Mrs. Baynes and the housekeeper saw 
him pick up a wet towel, carry it to a tree, and 



* 


Jimmie Was Fond of Pruning Trees 








109 


The Story of a Black Bear Cub 

after standing on his hind legs hang it over a 
branch. Then he put a paw under the towel, 
wiped his face with it, and spread it out on the 
branch again. 

Only one thing seriously interfered with his 
enjoyment of winter. Sometimes the soles of his 
feet would crack, and, especially when he 
walked on hard, icy ground, they seemed to 
cause him great pain. His discomfort was in¬ 
creased by the fact that he picked up a good deal 
of snow which caked on his feet in the form of 
ice, making it difficult for him to walk. He 
would sit down, grumbling, raise one hind foot 
to his mouth, hold it with a forepaw, and chew 
the ice off bit by bit. He would do the same 
with the other hind foot, and then perhaps roll 
over on his back in relief. 

There were certain intensely cold nights when 
he did not sleep very well, perhaps from lack of 
sufficient bedclothes. On these occasions he 
took a curious way of expressing his dissatisfac¬ 
tion. He would come to the front door, lie 
down close to it, and proceed to chew the mold¬ 
ing off the lower panels. As he made a good 
deal of noise in doing this, it woke us up and of 


I IO 


Jimmie 


course I had to go downstairs and drive him 
away. I would return to bed, and then, just as 
I was dozing off, I’d hear the crunching of 
wood and know that it was my turn to drive him 
away again. He would hear me coming and 
when I flung open the door and leaped half clad 
into the biting air, he would already be in grum¬ 
bling retreat along the piazza and I would hear 
him scrambling over the railing, below which 
lay the entrance to his den. There was nothing 
to be done but go back to bed, hoping that the 
scare he had had would keep him from return¬ 
ing. False hope, for perhaps half an hour later 
I would be awakened again by the rip and 
crunch and for the third time I would arise, 
with grim determination that it should also be 
the last time. Seizing a snowshoe I would creep 
silently to the door, and making sure by the 
sound of his gnawing that he was on the other 
side, I would open it with a jerk and race down 
the piazza in time to give him one good whack 
with the webbing of the shoe as he went over the 
rail. Of course it didn't hurt him in the least, 
but it scared him enough to keep him away for 
the rest of the night. He annoyed us so seldom 



He Was Greatly Troubled by the Ice Which Caked on His Hind Paws 






The Story of a Black Bear Cub 113 

—in that particular way—that it wasn’t worth¬ 
while to take measures against it, and if we had 
shut him up as we might easily have done, it 
would have broken his heart. 

Of course Jimmie was a favorite with every 
child in the neighborhood, and if a children’s 
vote had been taken for the most popular animal 
in our county, I believe that the bear cub would 
have been unanimously elected. To be sure if 
the grown people had held the election, there 
might have been some votes against him. But 
the kiddies loved him. He was one of them, and 
they understood him. They enjoyed his mis¬ 
chievous pranks, and he would play as long as 
any of them cared to play with him. 

At Christmas we gave a children’s party, and 
perhaps a score of girls and boys came to spend 
the evening. As it was not possible to make 
Jimmie understand about the party, he went to 
bed early, as usual, and was asleep in his own 
den under the piazza, long before the first guests 
arrived. He was not forgotten by his little 
friends, however, and “Where’s Jimmie?” was 
the first question asked by almost every child 
that came in. But there was so much to chatter 



Jimmie 


114 

about, and so many games to play, that absent 
comrades—even Jimmie—were soon out of 
mind. 

At last supper was ready, and all the children 
trooped into the dining room and took their 
places at the long table. 

For a while everyone was so busy that there 
was little to be heard except the clatter of forks 
and spoons and plates. I stood at the end of the 
room, enjoying the fun. For the moment my 
eyes were on a small boy who seemed to be en¬ 
joying himself even more than the rest. He was 
making more noise than anyone else, and at the 
same, time performing remarkable sleight-of- 
mouth tricks with a large piece of cake and a 
plate of ice cream. Suddenly, I saw his face 
change. His laugh was cut in two, his smile 
faded, the remains of the cake fell to his plate 
and a spoonful of ice cream, on its way to his 
open mouth, remained suspended in the air. He 
was facing a window, and as I followed his 
gaze, I saw a hairy black face, with a tawny 
muzzle and a pair of small, shining, black eyes, 
looking eagerly into the room. It was the bear 
cub, whose slumbers had been disturbed by the 





Jimmie Was a Favorite with Every Child in the Neighborhood 








1 he Story of a Black Bear Cub 117 

noise, and who had come to see what it was all 
about. 

In an instant the room was in an uproar. All 
the children left the table at once and crowded 
around the window yelling “Jimmie! It’s Jim¬ 
mie! Let him in! Don’t you do it! Keep him 
out! Open the window! Give him some cakeP 
One little boy, with a piece of cake in his hand, 
raised the window just a little bit. That was 
enough for Jimmie. Ignoring the proffered 
cake, he thrust his strong muzzle under the sash, 
raised it with one jerk of his head, and in a 
moment came tumbling into the room. How 
those children yelled and scattered. While they 
all thought it good fun to have the cub at the 
party, none of them knew just what he would 
do, and some, especially the younger ones, were 
decidedly nervous. A small girl hid behind the 
window curtains, two little boys scurried up¬ 
stairs and peeped through the bannisters, and 
another, by means of a chair, scrambled to the 
top of a sideboard. But Jimmie had his own 
ideas about a party. His first interest was in the 
supper table. Standing up on his hind legs, he 
placed his forepaws on the cloth. Just in front 


Jnil line 


118 

of him was a plate with some apple jelly on it. 
One sweep of his long tongue and the plate was 
as clean as if it had been washed. A dish of 
blanc mange was the next to be gobbled up, and 
then a boy rather bolder than the rest, made an 
attempt to save the cake. He seized the intruder 
by the skin of his neck, but except for a loud, 
grumbling protest, the bear paid no attention to 
him. He walked right along, pulling the boy 
with him, and one slice of cake after another dis¬ 
appeared down the black throat. The little girl 
behind the curtains, seeing that Jimmie did not 
intend to hurt anyone, came from her hiding 
place to try and help the boy who was holding 
him. Now this little girl had been eating 
strawberry jam, and as little girls sometimes do, 
had left a little of it on her lips. The moment 
she touched him, Jimmie turned, and seeing and 
smelling the jam, he caught the child in his short 
forearms, and, in spite of her screams, licked her 
face all over before letting her go. Then he 
reached for the sugar basin, lifted it from the 
table with his paws, and sat down on his 
haunches to devour the contents. 

By this time, the children who had been ner- 



Plunder from the Pantry 





I 21 


The Story of a Black Bear Cub 

vous were quite at their ease again, and gathered 
round to see him eat the sugar, while he grum¬ 
bled away in an injured tone of voice because he 
was afraid that some one would take the bowl 
away from him. 

But he was allowed to finish it, and having 
satisfied his hunger, he was ready to play. First 
of all he acted as if he had lost his wits, or as if 
he wanted to “show off” which is about the same 
thing. He rolled over on his back, turned somer¬ 
saults, and batted the chairs and the table legs 
with his paws. The children got down on the 
floor to romp with him, and together they had a 
merry time, until Jimmy tired them out, one 
by one. 

When they were all up on their feet again, 
Jimmie arose and stood perfectly erect on his 
hind legs. Then he picked out a girl about his 
own height and took a step toward her, raising 
his paws as though inviting her to a boxing 
match. The girl accepted the challenge, and as 
she was strong she held her own very well for a 
time. But as Jimmie warmed up to his work 
he became very rough, and swung his heavy 
paws right and left as fast and as hard as he 


122 


Jimmie 


could. At last he gave his playmate a stinging 
slap on the side of the face, and she decided not 
to play any more. Then, as I thought that 
Jimmie himself had had about enough fun for 
one evening, I opened the door, and he galloped 
off to his den under the piazza. 

Thanks to an unfailing regular food supply, 
with frequent stolen feasts of molasses, jam, and 
maple sugar, Jimmie continued to grow rapidly 
in size and strength. At first I could pick him 
up in one hand, as I would handle a kitten, but 
soon it required two hands, and a little later I 
did not care to lift him at all on warm days. 
He was very good-natured except when one 
tried to make him do something he did not want 
to do, and then there was trouble. One con¬ 
tinual source of dispute was his insistence on 
coming into the house. Usually we didn’t mind 
his coming in, but sometimes it was not con¬ 
venient and we reserved the right to occasional 
privacy. But if he got so much as the tip of his 
nose or a single paw inside the door he would 
resist to the utmost any attempt to make him 
back out. Bawling as if he were being mur¬ 
dered, he would fight as for his life to get the 



He Grew Rapidly in Size and Strength 










125 


The Story of a Black Bear Cub 

rest of his body inside. Curiously enough, we 
found it much easier to let him come in, turn 
him round, and march him straight out again. 
Even this was not as easy as it sounds. If I tried 
to drag him out by the neck, he would deliber¬ 
ately lie down and roll over, encircle each of my 
ankles firmly with a stout forepaw, and in every 
way make my task as difficult as he possibly 
could. When I persisted, as of course I always 
did, he would not hesitate to bite, gently at first 
but with growing vigor as the tussle proceeded, 
or to tear my clothing to rags with the formid¬ 
able claws of his hind feet. Worsted in the end 
he would go off grumbling, to lie down pres¬ 
ently and suck his paws noisily and sulkily, mak¬ 
ing a queer continuous sound, like a ubble-uble- 
uble-uble-uble-uble,” which he kept up for a 
long time unless something happened to take his 
mind off his troubles. 

If, as often happened, he walked in without 
any opposition, he usually made straight for the 
dining room. If the table was set, he would 
stand on his hind legs, put both his forepaws 
around the sugar bowl and carry it off. Then 
he would retire to a corner, sit down with his 



126 Jimmie 

back to the wall, and take the bowl in his lap. 
This was the moment of all others when he 
hated to be interrupted. If an inconsiderate 


I Wonder If That Pantry Door Is Open 


human so much as appeared at the dining room 
door, he would he greeted with a loud, grum¬ 
bling, mumbling, sputtering protest, as Jimmie, 




The Story of a Black Bear Cub 127 

with his mouth ludicrously full of sugar, sought 
to express his disapproval of any possible at¬ 
tempt to deprive him of his ill-gotten sweets. 

But his red-letter days were those in which 
he successfully raided the pantry. These days 



I Guess Pll Go and See 


were rare because there was a standing order 
that the pantry door should always be kept 
locked, and even Lucy conceded the wisdom of 
this. But the lock was not an automatic one— 
the human element was present, and occasionally 
Jimmie got in. Usually the extent of the wreck 
































128 


Jimmie 


which followed was proportionate to the length 
of time he was able to work uninterrupted. He 
could make a complete job of it in about an 
hour. 

One day we came back from a drive, and 
Jimmie didn’t come to meet us as usual. Lucy 
was away and a window opening on to the 
piazza roof had been left open. We entered 
the house and found that the pantry door had 
been left open too. What a sight met our eyes 
when we reached the doorway! The floor was 
strewn with paper bags and boxes (left by the 
grocer that afternoon), most of them burst 
wide open and with their contents sifting 
through—raisins, prunes, walnuts, and crackers 
of several kinds. These were mingling in a dis¬ 
orderly abandon with bars of soap, broken bot¬ 
tles of olives and marmalade, and with some 
lemons scattered about as if for decorative effect. 
From the shelves above there dripped and 
trickled at their respective speeds, condensed 
milk, strawberry jam, and cider vinegar. I 
never saw such a mess in my life. But that 
wasn’t all by any means. In one corner of the 
room a molasses jar had been overturned, and 






Jimmie Was Quite Fond of Me in His Rough Way 








Ihe Story of a Black Bear Cub 131 

the syrup lay in golden pools and shining smears, 
and in the middle of it wallowed Jimmie, the 
author of all this deviltry—sticky, utterly un¬ 
presentable, and supremely happy. For about 
five seconds I felt angry, but I glanced at Mrs. 
Baynes and saw that she was trying very hard 
not to laugh—apparently out of respect for my 
feelings. 

“Yes^it’s awfully funny, isn’t it?” I remarked 
ironically. At the sound of my voice Jimmie 
looked up, and with a jam label glued to one 
cheek and a lamp wick hanging down behind, 
he arose unsteadily to greet us. If anything had 
been needed to complete the picture we had it 
now, and I can’t remember which of us laughed 
the harder. 

Then we noticed something we had noticed 
once before when the bear had eaten too much 
molasses. It had made him “silly” and he began 
to “show off as a man will do sometimes if he 
has had just a little too much to drink. There 
was a sort of foolish “smirk” on his face as he 
attempted in a slouchy way to embrace us, and 
when we retreated to the garden, he followed 
with a wobbly gait. Out on the lawn he gave an 




r 3 2 


Jim mie 


exhibition of tumbling which would have done 
discredit to an intoxicated clown, and he stopped 
and looked toward us after every “act” as if 
deliberately waiting for applause. 

In the midst of the performance Lucy ap¬ 
peared; she had just seen the wreck of the 
pantry. So far from being angry, she rushed to 
him, and sticky as he was, she wrapped her arms 
about him. 

As if to anticipate any protest I might make, 
she said: “Well, bears will be bears! Bless his 
little heart, he’s nothing but a baby. Poor little 
fellow, he was just hungry. I forgot to give him 
his breakfast” (a statement which I gravely 
doubted)—“and he didn’t have any supper last 
night either” (a statement which we all knew 
had been invented on the spot). And Jimmie 
laid his head on her shoulder and blubbered 
like an orphan'child. 

It was late that night when Lucy finished 
washing him; and I think she must have ironed 
him too, for he was the sprucest looking bear 
cub I have ever seen when he turned up for 
breakfast next morning. 



CHAPTER V 


JIMMIE SAYS GOOD-BY 

TOWARD the following spring, after long de¬ 
liberation, we decided that Jimmie was getting 
too large for private use. Good-natured as he 
was, he was growing very strong, and quite too 
strenuous and demonstrative for the liking of 
some of the people he made it his business to 
meet. If he saw a man coming up the road, that 
man was in for a wrestling match whether he 
was in training or not, and if his apparel hap¬ 
pened to be quite unsuitable for work u on the 
mat” it made not the slightest difference to the 
black imp who challenged him. A very nice 
young man walked all the way from Lebanon 
one day to try to sell us a copy of u To Heaven 
through Nature.” Jimmie happened to meet 
him a quarter of a mile down the road, and by 
the time I was able to respond to his very vig¬ 
orous call for help, he looked as if he had been 

trying to hurry through a series of barbed wire 

133 


134 


Jimmie 


entanglements. We simply had to ask him to 
lunch, and Lucy spent most of the afternoon 
mending his trousers. As he was leaving, her 
eyes twinkled and she called to him, “When you 
get out a new edition of your book, don’t forget 
to have a chapter on bears.” 

Even Lucy was no longer sure that she could 
hold her own against Jimmie. One day he 
caught her away from the house and in his play¬ 
ful, bearish way tore her skirt and apron and at 
last, to her great mortification, she was obliged 
to call for help. 

But the climax was reached one evening, 
when, as Mrs. Baynes was coming home from a 
walk, Jimmie seized her, and in spite of all she 
could do to prevent him, tripped her up and 
threw her on to the snow. Of course it was in 
fun from his point of view, but from hers it was 
becoming serious, and she called to me. I ran 
as fast as I could, but by the time I got there he 
had taken the knot of her hair in his mouth and 
pushed her head into a soft snow bank. He was 
getting too funny to laugh at, and I determined 
to find a new home for him. 

That was not entirely easy. When he was 



The Man Was in for a Wrestling Match 






















i37 


The Story of a Black Bear Cub 

very little everybody wanted him, but as he had 
grown larger and stronger the offers which were 
made for him grew fewer and fewer. One 
friend, when asked if he didn’t want a nice 
young bear about Jimmie’s size, answered, “No 
thanks—what have I done to you?” 

But at last I learned that the New York 
Zoological Society wanted a Canadian black 
bear, and the Director kindly wrote to me offer¬ 
ing to buy him. I could not accept the offer as 
I have always made it a point never to sell 
an animal which has been a member of my 
household. But I promptly presented him, 
and I confess it was with mingled feelings. 
Next morning we went for our last walk to¬ 
gether, and when I marked his height as he 
stood on his hind legs and felt the strength 
of his arms and the grip of his teeth when 
he closed with me for a wrestling bout, I 
knew that we had not made our decision too 
soon. But that afternoon when he walked out 
on to the piazza, stood up at one of the posts, 
and with a strangely sad expression on his face 
looked away across those blue hills and valleys 
which he was never to see again, there came a 



Jimmie 


138 

chokey feeling in our throats. And when a little 
later he picked up a much beloved rag doll 
which Mrs. Baynes had made for him, sat down 
with it in his lap, licked its face all over for the 
last time and then carried it off to bed with him, 
we couldn't help feeling very sorry that little 
bears grow up into big ones. Of course our in¬ 
telligence told us that he had no idea that he was 
going away, that his standing at the piazza post 
that particular afternoon was merely an inter¬ 
esting coincidence, and that the sadness of his 
expression was probably in our own imagina¬ 
tion. Nevertheless, these things all tended to 
emphasize the fact that he was about to leave us 
and we were genuinely sad to think that we were 
going to lose him. 

Early next morning a sledge drawn by two 
big black oxen stopped at our door. They were 
headed toward Lebanon, our nearest railroad 
station, eight miles away. After we had all let 
Jimmie give us a parting hug, I led him to a 
crate which had been made for him, and a few 
moments later the crate, with the bear inside it, 
was lifted on to the sledge. 

“Gee! 11 cried the driver, and the great black 



I Felt the Strength of His Arms and the Grip of His Teeth 












1 he Story of a Black Bear Cub 141 

oxen swung to the right, breaking out the run¬ 
ners and sending glittering ice splinters in all 
directions. 

“Huish!” The powerful brutes lunged for¬ 
ward into the yoke, the sledge moved northward 
over the rough and frozen roads, and Lucy, her 
apron held to her face, stood crying as if her 
heart would break. 

Two months later I went to New York, and 
naturally the first person I called on was Jim¬ 
mie. I wanted to see if he remembered me— 
to know whether he could distinguish me from 
the thousands of other people who went past 
those bear dens every day. I told the director 
and he consented to go with me and help me 
to make a test of it. From a distance we could 
see Jimmie lying in a corner of the den, his 
head on his left paw and evidently fast asleep. 
According to agreement, the director went to 
the corner which was farthest from the sleeping 
cub and began to call him by name. 

“Jimmie!” he shouted. “Jimmie! Jimmie! 
Come along Jimmie! Come! Come!” 

But the bear never moved. Of course he 
must have heard the sound, but the voice meant 



142 


Jimmie 


nothing to him. Then the director stepped 
back, and I began to call. Instantly Jimmie’s 
head came up from his arm, and he scrambled 
to his feet. Then he came trotting along the 
inside of the pen and when he got opposite me 
he stood up on his hind legs and I gave him my 
hand through the bars. He grabbed it in both 
his forepaws and fairly gasped in his excitement. 

“Ooah! Ooah!—Ooooah!” 

Then he gave way to that queer, continuous, 
bubbling sob he often made when greatly 
stirred. 

“Ubble-uble-uble-uble-uble-uble,” he blub¬ 
bered, and he kept it up until I thought I should 
cry myself. 

It was very hard to leave him but, of course, 
it had to be. Slowly I took my hand from be¬ 
tween his clinging paws and walked away, 
leaving him sobbing softly to himself. 

About a year later I went to see him again. 
He had grown much larger and was easily hold¬ 
ing his own with several other young bears who 
were occupying the same den with him. When 
I arrived some small boys, in defiance of the 
rules, were throwing peanuts through the bars. 




I Led Him to a Crate Which Had Been Made for Him 









The Story of a Black Bear Cub 145 

All the bears in the den were on the alert for 
them, but it is safe to say that Jimmie was 
getting three out of five. 

I went as near as the guard rail would let me 
and called him by name. Again he came up but 
with a look quite different from the one he had 
given me a year ago. He stood up on his hind 
legs and looked at me with a puzzled expression 
which seemed to say, “It seems to me that I have 
met you somewhere before, but I’ll be hanged if 
I can remember just where it was or who you 
are.” 

The last time I saw Jimmie—and it was not 
so long ago—he was still at the Zoo. He had 
outstripped all his companions both in size and 
good looks, and was really a superb specimen. 
As he arose on his hind legs he was tall and 
straight, his eyes were bright, and his coat was 
long and healthy. He was the largest and hand¬ 
somest black bear in the New York Zoological 
Park. 











































































